In an endless funk, I stared out my window.
Out there lies the answers to my troubled mind.
Do I dream more than those on the streets below?
A fool! Perhaps an alien to mankind?

Where does God exist? What gifts does he bestow?
Is there any truth for my sad heart to find,
or has the open freeway turned into weeds.
To learn the desert was where I cast my seeds.
Day turns into night and the world repeats itself.

I look for brighter colors or happiness,
But nothing changes, just like books on a shelf.
They stay constant in forgotten readiness.
Like the questions I discover in myself;
Answers to me, others, they do not impress;
Do my own words have real meaning anymore?
Am I man enough to step outside the door?Merle Feltham is a Canadian freelance writer and poet.